#isco alarcon imagine

[xratedffbarbiex]

Pink Car.

(gif not mine. Credit to the creator)

So this is os was originally planned for the smut writing challenge BUT it’s also my darling girl’s birthday. I hope you have an amazing day at Disney and enjoy this when you get a moment to relax. Love you @iwriteficsandtragedies / @thedoctorismyparabatai. HAPPY BIRTHDAY. 

Apologies if you’re reading this on the app, chances are the format looks atrocious.  

_______________

Isco would like it to be clear that he’s not one who follows conspiracies, nor does he believe them. Then again, he never believed his girlfriend would be the type to indulge in a spot of collusion either.

Yet at this moment in time, Isco fully believes that she is. His arm is starting to get numb from where she’s slapped him for every yell of “YELLOW CAR” every screech of “BUG THUMP” and “MINI PINCH”.

Isco is certain that he’s never seen so many yellow cars, beetles or mini coopers on the road but today, she’s managed to find them all and revert to a childlike state.

“What is the purpose of this game?” He asks, “other than trying to give me a bruise.”

“Well normally there aren’t many of them, so it makes car rides fun because you’re looking for them. Today just isn’t your lucky day.” She shrugs, her hand still raised ready to get him again. She doesn’t slap him hard, it’s more of a tap but the amount she’s done in such a short space of time all adds up.

“BUG THUMP,” he yells before she can and flicks his knuckles over the soft of her thigh. She scowls as she peers past him, annoyed that she’s missed one. “Your clean sheet is over.” He chuckles happily. He’ll gladly take another ten smacks in a row now, the look on her face is priceless. “Looks like you paid them to be in the wrong place.” He adds. “I’m not paying them!” She laughs, turning to look at him. “It’s not my fault you’re a sore loser.” “Ok. I’m changing the game.” He declares.  “I’m listening.” She turns her body to look at him properly. 

 Trying to hide his grin, he focuses on the road ahead. He hadn’t actually thought of anything, but he’s got her interest now and she’s not one to turn down a challenge. Think Isco, think. It’s then that her words come back to him. “Normally there aren’t many of them.” And that’s when it hits him.  “Ok so the yellow car game was based on it not being a popular colour right?” She nods. He knows he’s got her full attention. “Pink cars. But to make it interesting, we’ll change the result of seeing one.” “The other person pays for date night?” He shakes his head. “The other person has to do all the chores for the week?” “Nope. The loser has to give the winner oral.” 

He turns briefly to look at her. She chews the inside of her lip as she considers his terms before smiling. “Ok fine. I’ll drop the others and take up pink car. You’re on. I hope that tongue is warmed up because it’s gonna get a lot of use soon.” She turns back to a normal seating position and scans the road, checking down every turn off just in case. “What if I see one when you’re not with me?” “Photo evidence or it doesn’t count.” He replies quickly, regretting not thinking of this sooner.  “Expiry?” She asks. “Doesn’t exist. As and when the person wants it.” He sees her nod out of the corner of his eye.

They spend the rest of the car ride back home eagerly looking, though Isco can’t remember the last time he even saw one. While it makes him sad to know that oral via this game will be few and far between, he knows it’ll be worth it. They’re minutes away from home when her arms are in the air and she’s yelling “PINK CAR. PINK. CAR.”

His head snaps to the side and there it is. Unmistakable in its Barbie pink brightness. He groans, pushing himself into the seat and frowning. “Thought you were going to win, didn’t you?” She’s far too happy for his liking. He also never had himself down as such a sore loser but here he was, losing on the first day of his very own made up game created to himself a winning chance. 

He sits in stony silence for the remaining minutes and she ignores his glumness as she opens the car door and skips to the house, humming a song that automatically annoys him. “Tell me, my handsome man,” she looks over her shoulder at him, “are you annoyed that you lost or that you have to give me something?” She cocks her head and grins happily at him as he sulkily approaches her, throwing the car keys up in the air and catching them. “You know I don’t like losing.” “But you like going down on me huh?” She asks. “Do you really have to ask that?” He’s now in front of her, one hand is slipping over her waist to pull her closer to him while the other inserts the key into the door and he pushes it open.

No, she doesn’t need to ask that because she knows he does. He’d made it clear very early on that he loved to go down on her. His mouth would work against her in ways that other boyfriends hadn’t. They’d done it because it was polite to, because they wanted to get their dick sucked afterwards but not because they wanted to. Not like the man before her now. She thought the futile attempt that they’d given her previously had been good, that the build-up of her orgasm was worth the small orgasm she’d had. But now she’d had a real orgasm given to her by someone who knew what they were doing, she laughed at the previous attempts and wondered how she put up with it.

Isco would often go to town on her. He’d bury himself between her legs for what felt like forever. He loved the effect he had on her. He loved everything about what he did to her when he was between her legs and it truly showed. He didn’t do it half-assed. He did it until she begged him to stop. Until she couldn’t stand another swipe of his tongue or suck on her clit. No, she didn’t need to ask at all.

He pulls her through the door and shuts it with his foot, securing the lock with one hand before he kisses her. She pushes the jacket from his shoulders and lets it drop behind him as he continues to move her back with each kiss. She feels herself getting steered towards the bedroom and she lets him take control.

Once there, she’s stripped of her clothes and he covers her body with his; his mouth is back on hers, his tongue dances with hers and she groans into his mouth when she feels his clothed erection against her centre. He presses his weight onto one arm while the free hand strokes over her stomach, her ribs and finally over her boob. He palms the weight of it while his fingers tweak her nipple into a hard peak as they continue to kiss. He nips at her lip before kissing along her skin, taking time over her jaw, just below her earlobe, over her pulse point of her neck and smiling to himself when he feels her breath catch in her throat as he does so. 

He bites gently at the skin of her throat before soothing it with his tongue as he moves lower. The scruff of his beard burns against her skin but she doesn’t care. Each new kiss brings him lower to where she needs him right now and the sensation of his facial hair against her is a welcome added texture to what his mouth and tongue are doing. 

Isco’s fingers leave her nipple as he dips below her belly, small kisses are planted as he goes, and he makes himself comfortable between her thighs. He pulls her legs over his shoulders and hooks his arms around her thighs, splaying one hand over her abdomen while the other hand strokes over her folds. “I love you baby,” he says, his eyes locking with hers. “I know, I love you to-” she can’t finish her sentence, his tongue lazily licks up the parting of her lips, pushing them open and allowing him to taste her for the first time that day. His tongue flicks just so, teasing her entrance and earning a small “oh” to fall from her mouth before her teeth clamp down on her lip to stop her from being any more verbal. Something Isco hates because he loves to hear her.

His fingers open her up, completely exposing her slit for him and allowing him perfect access to both her clit and her core. His tongue darts inside, licking away at her wetness that’s there and as far as he can inside of her. Her eyes blur, she can barely keep her eyes open any longer as his tongue swirls within her before pulling out and flicking upwards to her clit.

She looks down between her legs, his eyes are closed. His thick lashes are against his cheeks, his hair is messy, and his cheeks are flushed with colour. The first swipe of the tip of his tongue over her bead has her legs shaking. She knows she won’t last. It’s been a while since she last had an orgasm and it’s building far too quickly for this to be drawn out, even if he wanted it to be.  She’s trying hard to keep her lip between her teeth and her silence to be maintained but he’s working her nub so well that when her legs begin to shake, she can’t help but let out a stream of cuss words and his name. “Good girl,” he praises before pulling her clit between his lips and sucking hard on it, sending her vision into a kaleidoscope of white noise and her ears to ring with blood rushing throughout her.

The hand over her stomach presses down as she tries to lift off the bed, holding her in place as her muscles twitch beneath his hand. His tongue continues to work against her sweet spot, the precision of the tip working her exactly where she likes it at exactly the pace she loves the most. She both hates him and loves him for knowing her body so well, needing no instruction from her. A few more flicks of his tongue and she’s shuddering beneath him, his name fills the room as she cries it out, the tightening within her stomach that had been building since he kissed her with need snaps and her orgasm rushes through her, pooling under her ass and soaking the bed as it continues. She clutches at the bedding, filling her fists with it so she’s not gripping his hair, even though he’s said previously that he doesn’t mind and finds it sexy when she does so.

He gives her a moment to steady her breathing. His beard has left a red mark against her soft skin so he kisses over them. “Worth winning for?” he grins at her, his lips slightly swollen and pink from his hard work. She’s never wanted to kiss him more. “Zoinks.” She says simply, watching him roll his eyes before he rests his forehead on her stomach as he laughs. “Really? You couldn’t just let that go?” “Word of the day and you said I couldn’t get it into any conversation. It was too good to pass up.” “I hate how competitive you are,” he grins at her as he shakes his head. “Lies. You love it as much as you love me and I think I’m going to love winning this game oh so much more...”

[iwriteficsandtragedies]

Bliss

This bandy legged bearded beauty has my heart and I got WAY in the feels for this request.

Warnings: none

__________________________________________________

Early morning Isco was your favorite Isco. His eyes were bleary, his voice rough and rumbly, his dark curls were at their wildest, and he was cuddly. So, so cuddly. Sometimes he would snuggle up behind you and bury his face in the back of your neck. Other times he’d be the small spoon and you would drape yourself around him. His favorite position was on his back with your head on his chest. He’d play with your hair, or rub your back, or hike your leg over his stomach to give him access to your butt, which he loved to jiggle. But as long as you were close to him, he was content.

Isco was the big spoon this morning, with his leg hooked through yours and his arms around you. A cold snap had come through the night before and training had been postponed to later in the day. It was the perfect excuse to stay in your warm bed, wrapped up in each other.

The windows were frosted over but his skin was warm against yours, keeping the cold at bay. Your breathing was almost in sync. He had his face pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder, his beard tickly but soft, and he slowly stroked his thumb against your arm. It was blissful comfort.

“I wish,” he started to say, but his voice cracked and he coughed to clear his throat. “I wish I could save this moment and come back to it whenever I wanted.”

“Like in a Pensieve?”

He snickered, his breath sending a few strands of your hair floating into your face. “Yes.”

“You laugh, but you didn’t have to ask me what it was.”

“Only because my girlfriend’s a nerd and tells me things against my will,” he muttered.

“What was that?” You turned over, poking him.

“I said I love you, and I wish every morning could be like this.” He pulled you flush against him, smushing your face into his chest.

“Isco, I can’t breathe,” you laughed, trying to push away from him.

“Ssshh, sshh, let me love you,” he said, squeezing you tighter into him.

You squealed, trying to wiggle away from him, but his grip around you was firm, so you changed tactics and dug your fingers into his stomach. He shrieked and jerked away from you. Isco was incredibly ticklish.

“That’s cheating.” He held you at arm’s length, which gave you a nice look at his naked torso. His abs were flexed with the strain of keeping you away. You grinned, biting your lower lip and wiggling your fingers menacingly.

“StooOOOOP,” he whined as you swiped at him again.

“Gonna call me a nerd again?”

“Of course I’m going to call you a nerd again, come on.” His boyish smile turned you to mush, every time. You let him pull you back to him, and he brought his lips to yours in a soft and gentle kiss.

“I’m not a nerd,” you huffed.

He smiled. “You are a nerd. But you’re my nerd.” He patted your butt.  You reached up to scratch your fingers through his beard and he closed his eyes, humming in contentment. “Is there a spell for freezing time?”

“It’s not wise to mess with time.”

“Shame.” He tightened the blankets around your bodies. “I’d stay here forever with you.”

You let your hand slide from his beard down his neck and come to rest against his chest. His heart beat against your palm. “You think you could tolerate me forever?”

“Tolerate you?” He looked down at you. “Tolerate?”

“I assault you with nerdy things and tickle you in fights.” You wiggled your brows at him.

He smiled, and kissed you again. “You do fight dirty.” He rolled over onto his back and you settled onto his chest. He danced his fingers over your spine, his eyes closed again. “There’s no ‘tolerating’ you. I love you.”

You pressed your lips to his neck. “I love you, too, my magic man.”

[footballrecs]

like for like

pairings: isco alarcón/alice (oc) oneshot by: notorious-fiction notes: besides this being super fluffy, it is also a sequel to crush.

[aucelebrity]

Au Meme : You’re Isco’s girlfriend and he talks about you and your meeting with his son.

[mariscomadrid]

Just like imagine dating isco and .. 1) waking up everyday to the pretty smile of his. 2) his morning voice ... 3) getting to hang out and play with junior 4) supporting him at every game 5) reminding him everyday of how important he is 6) him being the most loyal and best boyfriend ever 7)His arms are the safest place you could imagine 8)going to trips together and just hanging out 9)money is the last thing you think about and just hanging out and being happy is what happiness for both of you is 10)introducing you to his family 11) watching movies and cuddling equals the world 12)loving junior and taking care of him like he was yours.. Just imagine ...

[rmfcstan-blog]

I LOVE MEN WITH BEARD!!!

Francisco Alarcón thanks for existing!

[hoesensio]

mood for the month

[anterebic]

i was just thinking... eden and isco.... playing together.... linking up..... disgusting

[alittlelostlamb]

heyyy can someone please gif that little kiss toni gave isco after he scored? 

[notorious-fiction]

The Christmas Prince (A Whoever You Want to Read With One-Shot)

        You two had made a deal.

         Shook hands and all, very solemn looks on your faces, promising one another a very simple thing.

         No gift exchanging on Christmas day.

(You'd just been laid off your job and it sucked balls, and he knew money was a bit short on your end and also knew you would never, in a gazillion years accept any money from him, so he started to come up with a bunch of lame ass excuses to make you feel a bit better.)

("It's cliché", he had snorted when you touched the subject "Exchanging Christmas gifts. Ugh. It was meaningful before but now it's just another "especial" date that lost it's core value to boost capitalism. I mean, you can be a crappy boyfriend all year round as long as you buy your girl an extra glittery Hallmark card and a Tiffany Bracelet, right?")

("Right." You had agreed, although not really, because as much as you found sexy as fuck when he used pretty words - core value, damn - you still flipping loved Christmas and looked forward to it all year long.)

        So no gift exchanging it was.

        You'd spend Christmas day with you family and he would spend it with his - you knew how rare it was for him to take some time to see them - but the day before, the 24th, you had him all to your own.

        Just "a casual dinner, the two of us" (his words, not yours) with some "classic Christmas movies, deal with it, loser" (your words, not his) at your place.

        Going out was a real pain nowadays, with the whole paps, fangirls, Snapchatters, etc thing, so to save yourself from the stress (how come he never failed to look like a Goddamn model on those candids whilst you looked like you were about to sneeze? Ugh.), staying in it was.

        In, with no gifts.

        Or at least you thought so, because mid afternoon on December 24th your iPhone seemed to gain a life of its own, all your social media accounts on a frenzy of notifications as, oh well, your famous as fuck of a boyfriend was spotted loading a box the size of a small poney into his car.

("She is so lucky!!!!!!")

("What did he get herrrrrrr i'd be happy just with his dick on box and by the size of it its prob that lol")

("Ugh i hope its a bomb")

(Insert other very sweet comments here.)

        You controlled the urge to text him (going against your über curious personality with all the strenghth your posessed), instead focusing on the fact that you were...

        Fucked.

        Because whilst your boyfriend was on the posession of a very big, flashy box (what you had no idea what was inside, Christ, what the hell was inside of it?!), you were in the posession of...

        "How The Grinch Stole Christmas", "Elf" and "The Polar Express".

(All masterpieces, in your humble opinion.)

        And the phone of the thai take out two blocks from your place.

(Best pad thai and sticky rice ever.)

(Plus it gave tons of free sriracha packets! Yay for free stuff!)

        But seriously, what the fuck were you supposed to give to a human being who seemed to have absolutely everything?!

        It'd be stupid to give him clothes - he got those for free -, you had no idea what his shoesize was (did that make you a horrible girlfriend? oops) and anything else you could think of was undoubtely lame. 

        What if you made him something?

        Okay so you didn't know how to draw or paint or knit or rhyme or write a song or do anything that required a minimum artistic vein slash handicraft talent but you could...

        Try?

        Throwing your body on the couch, your laptop literally on your lap, you sat on your ultimate comfy position - which he had lovingly nicknamed "Cirque Du Soleil's contortionist catching up on reality TV on it's free time" or "how you don't have a back problem is beyond me" (when he said that last one he totally reminded you of your mom) -, typing on the words that were responsible for many delayed papers at Uni and scurries off the house whilst almost tripping on your shoes as you were late as fuck.

        Pinterest dot com.

(A blessing and a curse to womankind, honestly.)

D. I. Y.

(Do it yourself.)

(Although you actually never did.)

        Scrolling down the screen - DIY baking soda shampoo! DIY mosaic tile birdbath using recycled DVD's! DIY Glittery Bath Bombs! - you noticed that all of them seemed to involve stuff everyone apparently had at home except you like glue guns or spray paint or Scrabble tile holders (...seriously) so after five minutes of Pinterest searching, you sighed in defeat.

(Hard effort wasn't your forte, you had to admit.)

        Even friendship bracelets are a hard task to accomplish when you have the skills of a three year old toddler and if you actually purchased a glue gun you could already picture yourself glueing nothing but your own fingers and spending Christmas Day at the ER.

        But you did have glitter glue, and that wasn't so dangerous was it?

        You also had an old, slightly crumpled piece of cardboard and a "DIY Easy Glittery Hallmark card tutorial!" (snort) at your screen, so you decided to give it a go.

        If it came out okay you'd be able to give him as an ironic gift?

("Oh hey, I know you gave me a super awesome/expensive/fancy/cool/thoughtful - insert whatever the hell could be inside that massive box here Christ the curiosity was killing you - but ha-ha-ha remember that snark you made about glittery Hallmark cards?! Instead of giving money to the greedy capitalist men I made one myself, how about that?! Aren't I the Best Girlfriend Ever?!?!?!")

        And if it came out like crap you could, y'know, throw it in the bin...

        ...So of course it came out like crap.

        Because you somehow managed to put more glitter glue on the tip of your fingers than on the goddamn cardboard, more glitter glue on your clothes as you absentmindedly rubbed your hands on it as you tried to think of what the hell you could do to save your "Merry Christmas" masterpiece.

(Trash.) (That was how you could save it, your dignity, your boyfriend's poor eyes and your dignity.)

(By throwing your masterpiece on the garbish.)

(Fuck ironic gifts.)

        Of course that instead of coming up with another idea after the Glittery-DIY-Hallmark-Card fiasco, your procrastinator side spoke louder, and click after click after click you found yourself going deeper and deeper of that pit called Pinterest, until you blazed on a section you'd never dared to venture on before.

        The recipe session.

        There were gooey chocolate chip bars, chocolate fudge brownies, kale and artichokes dip, quinoa fried "rice" (...why would someone all it fried "rice" if it had no rice in it only quinoa, you wondered...) and everything made your mouth water and stomach growl and you deeply wished there was someone who could make it for you.

        Everything sounded too tempting (and too hard and with too many fancy ingredients and kitchen appliances you'd never even heard of) until you found...

"Easy adaptable chocolate chip cookies with ingredients everyone has at home!!!!! Can be made vegan gluten/lactose/nut/anythying free paleo atkins insert random diet you'd never heard of before here"

        Well...

        Following a recipe wouldn't be that hard... Would it?

        Especially when you could sub eggs for oil if you didn't have any or oil for mashed banana or mashed banana for applesauce or applesauce for honey or honey for agave which were all obviously so much alike, right?

        Throwing everything you had into a single bowl - did you mention it was a single bowl recipe? Seriously, it could not get any better, your dishes-washing-hater-side thought - you frowned as you compared your final result to the one on the screen.

        Pinterest's batter: gooey but firm, looked so good you wouldn't mind spooning it raw directly into your mouth.

        Your batter: two year old's diarrhea, you wouldn't want to spoon it raw directly into your mouth not even if they paid you.

        You somehow managed to put little (balls, on Pinterest, blobs, sounded more accurate to your situation) blobs of the batter onto the baking sheet and onto the oven, too busy freaking out slash trying to understand what the hell you did wrong (ooh two american cups of flour? what were american cups? weren't your cups american? why america has to control everything for god's sake?!) to notice the door being unlocked, only realising you had company when you heard an amused chuckle behind you.

        Turning around so quick you almost broke your neck - fouet filled with sticky disgusting batter held in hand in a threatingly way - you found him staring, all long legs and perfect hair and mocking grin and...

        Empty hands?

        Where the hell was the box the size of a toddler he was seen loading into his car?!

        Goddamit, internet!

(And why did you feel a lil' bit disappointed I mean...)

(...you had him, hadn't you?)

(Best Christmas Gift Ever, am I right.)

        "Hi."

        "Hi. Were you..." A cute little frown appeared between his brows, pearly white teeth still on show as he asked "Baking?"

        Getting a bit defensive - why did he have to sound so confused/terrified? - you dropped the fouet on the sink, replying "Yes, why?"

        "Oh, for nothing! I mean, it smells..."

(Awful.)

        "Pretty good."

(Damn, he was a liar.)

        Leaning to check the oven temperature just one more time - I mean, better safe than sorry, you couldn't push your luck (any further) - you ignored your boyfriend's stare (a cute little smirk on his lips because well, he thought it was cute how you hadn't noticed the chocolate batter on your chin or how you wore an apron thrice your size), asking maybe a little too cheery "So, how's your Christmas eve going so far?"

( "...Loading too many big ass boxes onto your car?", you rhymed mentally.)

        "Well, not too good I mean, I only got to see my lovely lady today." He replied with a charming smile, expecting for you to giggle - alright, fine, he knew you weren't one to giggle, or at least give him love eyes.

        You squinted skeptically.

...Okay.

        "Empty handed, I see."

        "Yeah, kinda glad we decided to skip on that Christmas madness. Had to help a mate out with picking up a complete set of one of those fancy Le Creuset cooking things. Said his girlfriend would love it." He added with a scoff, rolling his eyes "I told him that if I gave you anything kitchen related you'd throw it in my head, but seeing you're apparently into cooking now..." He paused, pursing his lips "Should I write it down as a suggestion for your birthday?"

        Her mind went black.

        Kitchen appliances.

        His mate was giving his girlfriend freakin' casseroles and frying pans.

(Oh poor girl.)

(Poor, poor girl.)

(The disappointment when she opened that huge heavy box.)

(Damn.)

        And you had been freaking out the entire day thinking he'd gotten you something big and awesome and you'd look like the awful ungrateful girlfriend.

        Man, that ugly glittery card would look like heaven next yo, y'know... Nothing.

        "If you ever give me a damn casserole pan I shall rip off your little buddy of you, cut it into tiny little pieces, cook them in the freakin' thing and serve you for dinner." You stated, and he replying, giving you a kiss on the forehead  "Aw, see? I know you so well."

        God, you were glad he didn't get you anything.

        Because being with him was the best gift you could've ever asked for.

(Insert vomiting and cringing here.)

(Fuck you never thought you would be THIS gross and disgusting and loving about any human being in your life after your miserable string of awful break-ups.)

(Yet there you were, with your very own prince charming.)

(Yup, that was it, you guys would be watching The Christmas Prince on Netflix.)

        You showed your appreciation by getting on the tips of your toes and pecking him on the lips, the little wrinkle of confusion between his forehead making you want to kiss him even more.

(How was possible for someone to be so cute slash sexy at the same damn time?)

(Seriously.)

(Ugh.)

        But then, maybe you'd been too distracted by his pouty pink lips - no chapstick or anything, you wondered how the hell he managed to get them always so soft and puffy and kissable - to check the oven...

        And the whole room started to smell a bit smokey.

        And look a bit smokey.

        "Fuck, my Pinterest cookies!" You squealed, startling him.

        You were sort of thankful your fire alarm wasn't working so well, because if the firemen showed up because you almost burned your kitchen down, your landlord would have (even more) reasons to hate you.

        "It looks... Edible." Your boyfiend said matter of fact, poking one of your cookies at the tray with the tip of his fingers with brows furrowed.

        They looked like baby alien fetus.

(Edible, in some outer galaxy cultures, probably.)

        "Want to try them?" You knew by the raise of his eyebrow that it was a challenge, a thing you rarely passed.

        Daringly, you got one - dropping it back to the tray because damn they were hot -, trying it again after a few seconds of you two staring at each other with "Who Shall Quit First" eyes.

        Was he going to make you eat them first?

        By the fake tight ass smile he was giving you, he was...

        So with the biggest grin you could muster, you squeaked "Merry Christmas baby! I made these for you! Hope you like them!"

(Or at least don't get food poisoning and die! Please don't get food poisoning and die! I kinda really really really really really like you!)

(And if you die because of me slash my cookies your fans will murder me!)

        With a small gulp, he picked one of the alien fetus cookies, shaking it off so they wouldn't be "too hot and burn his tongue" for about three minutes.

        You kinda knew he was trying to make as many tiny pieces of it fall out so he'd eat as less of a cookie as possible, but you didn't call him out on it because oh well, he was at least going to eat a teeny bit of them.

        And in the end, after a bit of fake awing "Oh, tastes so good babe" and maybe spitting on a napkin when you turned around to throw the dirty dishes on the sink, he did eat your alien fetus cookies.

        What made him the best boyfriend slash Christmas present ever.

        And after drinking maybe a bit too much wine and watching The Christmas Prince, he drunkenly vowed to never ever give you anything cooking related - as the cookies now rested in peace in your trashcan, on top of your ugly ass glittery card -, and that vow would be proved to be a gift that kept on giving.

(I mean, it would give stomach aches and calls to the fire fighters and be a total waste of ingredients, so you were cool with that.)

(And even if he never gave you anything at all, he dealt with your craziness, your PMSing, you overreacting whenever you let your - very expensive - makeup fall onto the floor, never watched Game of Thrones episodes without you and always let you eat the biggest last slice of cheesecake.)

        And if that wasn't much of a proof of real, true love, you had no idea of what the hell it could be.

           And that was the greatest gift of all.

(Cue to cringing due to cheesyness again.)

-------

MERRY CHRISTMAS U GUYSSSSSSSSS!

Hope y’all have a fantastic one and find all you wanted under the tree! ooh and if you liked it pls don’t forget to click on that like button (i’ve been watching too many youtube vids send help)

lots lots of love

Gabe

ps: i’d like to dedicate this to my favorite humans on earth victoria, nina and lari, who are still my friends even after i’ve been through probably 30 different mental breakdowns this year, love you guise so muchhhhhhhh thanks for always encouraging me to write!!! oh and if you haven’t read my stories based on them you can find them all here 

[iwriteficsandtragedies]

Family Vacation

Anon request for a PDA-filled beach trip with Marco, Isco, and Isco Jr. I love these boys :)

Warnings: heavy petting, not quite smut

______________________________________________________

You were fairly certain this was heaven. The beach was nearly deserted, tourist season having finally ended. You were laid out on your stomach, covered in sand but caring very little, your head resting on Marco’s bunched up towel while the waves lulled you to sleep in the warm sun. It was bliss.

That is, until a hand landed square on your backside and jolted you from your peace. You yelped in surprise and a little pain as your boyfriend fell on the blanket beside you with a mischievous grin. “Unnecessary,” you glared at him, rubbing the spot he had smacked.

“Oh I disagree.” He nudged your hand aside and replaced it with his, giving your butt a little jiggle. “Have you seen this butt? It begs to be smacked, constantly.”

“You can pay attention to it without hurting me, sir.” You poked your tongue out at him.

“Did I really hurt you?” His looked changed to one of concern. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t hurt me, honey, it’s ok,” you reassured him. “You should probably kiss it better though, just in case,” you joked.

He planted a loud, exaggerated kiss over your swimsuit, before pressing a softer one to the skin just above the edge of the fabric. You shivered as he traced light kisses slowly up your back and over your shoulder, nuzzling into you to kiss the spot on your neck he knew you loved. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes as his lips met yours in a soft kiss. His hand gripped your butt as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing gently with yours, and his other hand toyed with the edge of your top.

“Why are you guys always kissing?”

Isco Jr. had appeared in front of you and you went to move away from Marco, but he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kept you close to him.

“Now Isco, if you had a girlfriend as pretty as this, wouldn’t you want to kiss her all the time too?”

Isco Jr. made a face. “No. I let her play with my trucks though.”

You nodded at Marco. “It’s true. They’re really cool trucks, too. You better watch out when he turns 18.”

Marco put on a serious face. “Isco, am I going to have to fight you for my girl one day?”

The little boy shook his head. “You’ll be too old by then.”

You howled with laughter, tears in your eyes, and though Marco gave you a little shove he was laughing too. Isco Jr. was so funny, and you weren’t sure if he even did it on purpose. Could a four year old have a sense of sarcasm? If he did, he surely got it from his father, who was walking back in from the water.

This trip had done you all some good. The guys had gotten an unexpected 5 day break, Isco had his boy, you were able to get the time off of work, and it was the perfect opportunity to get away to the beach for a couple of days. It was wonderful to just hang out with your boyfriend and his best friend, away from the pressures of Madrid. It didn’t hurt that you and Isco Jr. absolutely adored each other, too.

“What are we laughing about,” asked Isco as he toweled off.

“Uncle Marco wants to fight me!” The little one clapped his hands in excitement.

Isco raised an eyebrow.

“Hey man, Junior is moving in on my girl and he’s more handsome than me.” Marco tried to hang on to his serious look but the corners of his mouth were turning up.

Isco smirked. “Damn right he is.” He ruffled the boy’s hair and kissed his cheek.

You stretched and heard several joints pop. “Marco, honey, let’s go for a walk. Isco, give me your bucket and I’ll find you some pretty shells and rocks.” The boy eagerly handed you his bucket and rattled off a list of colors and shapes you were to look out for, and you promised to do your best as you and Marco headed down the beach.

The tide was out, which meant there were plenty of shells you could pick up for both little Isco and yourself. Marco, ever the dutiful boyfriend, helped you look and held the bucket. You walked in comfortable silence for a long time, except to point out shells and rocks to each other. The farther you got down the beach the fewer people there were, and when you finally reached the pier you found yourselves completely alone. “We should probably turn around,” you said, “Isco might be ready to go.”

“I have my phone,” said Marco, “He’ll call us if he leaves. Sit with me awhile, it’s nice here.”

He sat down in the sand with his back to a pylon, making sure it was free of jagged edges before motioning for you to lean against him. You nestled in between his legs and leaned against his chest, letting him wrap around you. You snuggled into him and closed your eyes. You thought briefly that you might just stay here forever, just the two of you and the ocean. He ran his fingers gently up and down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. You heard him hum contentedly, felt the rumble in his chest, and tilted your head up to look at him.

He had his head against the pylon, eyes closed, hair rustling in the wind, his hand still stroking your arm. You stretched up to kiss his jaw, and went to rest your head back on his chest but he caught your chin in his hand and tilted your face back to his. He gazed down at you, his eyes dark. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip and you parted your lips slightly, snaking your tongue out, hoping he’d take the hint and kiss you already. He smirked and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you up and over to straddle his lap, and you let momentum lower you to him where he met you with a fervent kiss. He wrapped one arm around your waist and cupped your face with his other hand, pulling you closer to him and holding you tightly to him as he kissed you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and a soft moan escaped your lips when he pressed his hips up slightly, grinding into you.

You had to break away from him, gasping for breath, but he kept your body flush against his and trailed hot, wet kisses over your neck. He lowered his hand to your chest, slipping it beneath your suit and cupping your breast. You whimpered his name as he rolled your nipple under his thumb, and he brought his lips back to yours. He kissed you hungrily, his hands roaming your body gently but urgently, moving to your hips and rocking you against him.

You pressed your chest into him, his bare skin warm against yours. You felt your hips roll against him instinctively. He groaned and pulled your lower lip between his teeth, biting down gently before releasing it and bringing your lips back to his, his tongue tangling with yours. He slipped a hand between your bodies, brushing his fingers along the edge of your suit bottoms. “We’re in public, Marco” you murmured against his lips.

“I know,” he said with a sly grin. “There’s no one around though.” He slipped his fingers just under your waistband.

“No one around for now, we’re not exactly hidden away here.” You moved his hand away. He groaned in frustration and gave your butt a light smack. You gave him a pointed look. “I don’t particularly feel like having my ass on the cover of a magazine, do you?”

He cocked his head, pretending to think. “I don’t know. It’s such a nice ass, I feel selfish keeping it to myself.”

It was your turn to smack him, and he laughed as he pulled you in for another kiss. You sat back in his lap and ran your hands over his shoulders. “I love you.”

He squeezed your thighs. “I love you too.”

As you gazed at one another, lost in each other’s eyes, the theme from Family Guy rang out.

“Ah yes, your true love,” you said with a snort.

He poked you in the ribs gently and answered the phone. “Isco, bro, you can ruin a moment. No, everyone’s still got their clothes on. No thanks to you.” You punched him in the shoulder. “We’re at the pier. Yeah come on, we’ll wait here for you. See you in a bit.” He put his phone back in his pocket. “Los Iscos are headed our way.”

“He’s got all our stuff?” You wondered how Isco had managed, but remembered one perk of traveling with Isco Jr was there was always either a wagon or a stroller to pile your things in.

Soon enough the littlest Isco was bounding into your arms, and you swung him around as he clung to your neck. He squealed with delight and you kissed him, pretending to chew on his pudgy little cheek and earning another squeal. “My shells, what did you find?!” he asked.

Marco handed him the bucket, and the little boy ooo-ed and aah-ed over his new treasures. Isco mentioned a restaurant close by and you hailed a ride on your phone as you all started to make your way to the parking lot.

“I bet I’m faster than you are Uncle Marco,” said Isco Jr.

Marco clutched his chest in fake indignation. “Is that a challenge, sir?”

Little Isco laughed devilishly. “Yes!” he yelled, and took off as fast as his little legs could go.

“Cheat! Cheat!” Marco yelled and ran after the boy, scooping him up and pretending to fly him towards the parking lot.

You and Isco laughed at the two of them and followed behind them. Isco bumped his shoulder against yours. “I’m glad it’s you.”

“You’re glad what’s me?” you asked.

“I’m just glad it’s you. You’re good for him. I can tell you love him. I can tell he loves you. Most important to me is that my son loves you, and I know that’s important to Marco too. So... I’m glad Marco’s person is you.”

You felt your throat close up and tears fill your eyes. “Thanks.” You sniffed. “I love you guys too.”

You walked the rest of the way with him, joking about Marco’s obsession with his hair and discussing where the younger Isco would be going to school next year. The Uber arrived just as you got to the parking lot, where Marco and Isco Jr. were pretending to have fallen asleep waiting for you. “OK bro, next time you can pull the wagon,” Isco said as he kicked at Marco’s shoe.

You waited outside the car as Isco configured Junior’s car seat, the boy in your arms and Marco’s arm around you. You wondered if this would one day be you two, if you would have a family with Marco. You smiled and kissed the top of Junior’s head as his father took him to load him into the car. You turned to Marco, wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested your chin on his chest as you looked up at him. “You ok?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just happy.” You pursed your lips for a kiss and he obliged.

“Can you two give it a rest for two minutes and get in the car, I’m starving.”

You buried your face in Marco’s chest as you both laughed at Isco. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to feed the babies.”

You piled into the car, and realized with a smile that you already had a family with Marco. You just might add to it one day.

[pichabros]

[footballrecs]

crush

pairings: isco alarcón/alice (oc) oneshot by: notorious-fiction notes: in case anyone has noticed it, yes, this is my favorite blog, that’s why i’ll quite possibly link all of their fics in this blog. 

[aucelebrity]

Au Meme: Isco reveals you are pregnant with twins.

[lovdowneyjr]

Fanfic MAPS. Marco Asensio. No Wattpad. https://my.w.tt/UiNb/4kSkrhaY5I

[mariogoetze]

Imagine if Isco and Isco jr would play together after the game w/ Toni and Leon

I mean

wouldn’t that be

wonder

ful